Ruby red and diamond white
by Afterglow04
Summary: There would come a time when he'd have to actually tell her just how much she meant to him, instead of trying to show her in unconventional, roundabout ways. - A collection of J/L oneshots, short stories and drabbles. All post Red John
1. Wager

**Ruby red and diamond white**

**A/N**: A couple of weeks back, I somehow caught the idea of starting a post RJ collection of unrelated Jane and Lisbon one-shots, short stories and/or drabbles. Because there's just so much more you can do and explore once Red John is out of the way :p These will mostly be in response to prompts, so they can be short or a bit longer, it depends on when and where inspiration strikes. The only thing they will have in common is the fact that they are set somewhere in a vague, post-RJ future.

Most (if not all) of them will also be distinctly light-hearted and fluffy. Heh.

As always, thank you to Autumn (**watchyouwalk**) for everything.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist. Title stolen from John Mayer.

_-xxx-_

_01.__ Wager_

.

"The husband's not our guy," Jane stated as they left the object of their current discussion in the interrogation room, choosing to retreat to Lisbon's office instead.

"And how would you know?" Lisbon countered. "I like him as a suspect; he had motive and opportunity. We're not releasing him yet."

"Suit yourself, but the man's innocent."

She leaned against her desk as Jane wasted little time in making himself comfortable on her couch, stretching and idly staring up at the ceiling.

"Okay, you've managed to peak my curiosity, so I'll bite. What exactly are you basing this theory on?"

"Boss?" Rigsby gave a quick knock before walking in. "We checked with some of Mr Thompson's colleagues. He was definitely at the conference until about 1pm, after which none of them actually remember talking to him and being able to put a specific time on it. However, he was seen leaving the hotel around 2:30 with a woman named Joanna Irvington, who we haven't been able to contact as of yet."

"So his alibi is dubious at best," Lisbon shot a half-victorious look in Jane's direction. "The conference was 10 minutes from his house, he could have easily gone back and forth without anyone really noticing he was gone."

"I'm telling you, he didn't kill her," Jane repeated. "Strangling is a crime of passion, and I can inform you right now that Mr Thompson didn't love or care about his wife nearly enough to rid himself of her in such a way. On top of which, there's quite a lot of strength required for manual strangulation - it typically demonstrates the disparity in physical strength between the assailant and his victim, yet the husband has very soft hands. His handshake is awfully weak, especially considering he's a businessman, which I found to be rather strange."

Lisbon stared at him somewhat disbelievingly while Rigsby's lips quirked upwards into a small smirk, gauging his boss' reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Soft hands?" Lisbon summarised incredulously. "You're ruling him out as a suspect because he has soft hands?"

Without waiting for his objection, she shook her head slightly and called Cho into her office.

"Cho, go talk to the victim's sister, will you? See what you can discover about the Thompsons' relationship. She lived with them, so she's bound to have noticed if there were some kind of marital problems."

"Who you should really be talking to again," Jane interrupted, sitting upright, "is the family's gardener. He and Mrs Thompson were having a sordid affair and I have reason to believe she had recently dumped him, so there's your motive."

"We have nothing to substantiate that charge with - it's just your assessment," Lisbon said irritably.

"You have to admit there's something not right about this entire story he's fabricated. He supposedly arrives at the house to find the back door has been broken down and the kitchen's a downright mess. Naturally, he suspects there's something wrong when he calls out to Mrs Thompson and she fails to respond. After which he goes upstairs to check it out, and he happens to find the lovely lady's body? Now, why didn't he just call the police when he noticed the break-in? It just doesn't make much sense - most people don't deliberately run into the arms of danger." He paused, looking around the room at the three agents all staring back at him wearing a faintly sceptical look. "Present company excluded, of course."

"All right," Lisbon sighed. "I'll agree to the fact that it's strange, but it's not enough to arrest the guy and it hardly makes him a murderer."

"Honestly, I'm willing to bet you a large sum of money that I'm right.," Jane persisted.

"Yea, I don't do bets. Especially not with you."

"Come on, Lisbon, live a little. I'm right about this."

"But you could be wrong," she stubbornly pointed out.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Jane retorted, his tone of voice betraying his rising frustration.

"Trust me, the day will come and when it does, I'll be first in line to mock you all week."

"Well, I'll look forward to that. In the meantime, could we just reach a consensus here?"

"Oh, fine. I'll humour you." The senior agent shot him her standard doubtful look while letting out a sigh before turning her attention back to Cho and Rigsby. "You two can go to the gardener's house – what was his name again?"

"Levi Mitchell," Cho offered up, briefly consulting the file in his hands.

"Right. See if you can get anything more out of him. I'll have Van Pelt run a full background check."

"Wait," Jane piped up. "So what exactly are we betting here? What do I get when it turns out he's our killer?"

"You'll get the satisfaction of being right. That should be more than enough to please your ego." She couldn't resist a small smirk. "What do I get when it turns out you're wrong?

"I'm not wrong; it won't be necessary."

"Well, that's convenient, isn't it?"

"Oh, all right," Jane suddenly said in exasperation. "If it turns out, against all possible odds, that you're right and I'm wrong..." he paused, racking his brain. "Then I'll sleep with you."

There was a sudden, stunned silence, and Jane noticed with some amusement that it took less than five seconds for Lisbon's cheeks to grow warm and her mouth to drop ever so slightly. A dozen different responses and comebacks immediately sprang to mind, but despite her temper flaring up, she appeared to be too shocked to form a coherent sentence.

Rigsby, in the meantime, was trying very hard to stifle his laughter when he caught sight of the death glare his superior was now aiming at their consultant.

Cho was the first to simply turn his attention away from Jane's grinning face to address Lisbon instead.

"So, boss, do you want us to bring the sister down here for questioning on our way back?"

Lisbon snapped out of her reverie and shook her head, confusion replacing the irritation evident in her gaze.

"Uh, no, that's okay. I have her number here somewhere, I'll simply set up a time for her to come into the office. I can't imagine why she wouldn't want to come down willingly."

"Okay," Cho replied, turning to Rigsby and motioning towards the door. Making their way out, Jane easily walked in line, attempting to slip out casually.

"Jane, a word?"

As expected, Lisbon's stern, almost menacing voice halted his escape, causing Rigsby to shoot him an amused look over his shoulder that suggested he was most likely in trouble. Jane merely beamed back at him before closing the door and turned around wearing his most angelic smile.

He was surprised to find her standing right behind him and flinched as she smacked him hard on the arm.

"Ow! That one actually hurt." There was way too much strength residing in that small body of hers.

"Not nearly enough! What the hell was that?" she demanded angrily. "That comment was completely inappropriate, unprofessional and worst of all, incredi-"

Before the feisty brunette could finish her sentence, she was cut off by Jane's lips pressing lovingly against hers. He rested one hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as she melted into the kiss despite her best efforts, letting a shiver shake her body.

It didn't last long, however, before common sense took over and Lisbon regained her composed frame of mind, pulling away with an annoyed look still vaguely recognisable beneath her flustered expression.

"Relax. None of them suspect a thing." Jane kept his arms comfortably settled around her waist. "They're all completely oblivious; there's no need to worry."

"That doesn't mean you should give them a reason to be suspicious! And let me go - we're at the office and we agreed not to act any differently here."

"Actually, I believe you _ordered_ me not to behave differently, and I was left with no choice in the matter."

"Same thing."

"This could've been the ideal opportunity to tell them, you know. I thought I lead you in quite nicely there, all you had to do was finish it off." He teased, letting her slip out of his grasp.

"Right, and what would you have wanted me to say? 'No need to say you'll sleep with me - we already are. Surprise, guys?'," she mocked.

"Something like that. Improvisation is a wonderful skill."

He leaned closer, quite clearly intent on stealing another kiss, but she merely gave him a weak punch on the shoulder before turning around to take a seat behind her desk. A sigh escaped her lips as she opened up the file, leafing through the different papers in search of the phone number she needed, her professional persona back in place.

"Why are you so sure the gardener did it, anyway?" She enquired distractedly.

He shrugged, "I don't like the guy."

"You don't like anyone," she countered, hardly deeming it a viable reason for accusing someone of murder.

"Well, that's not true. I happen to be extremely fond of you," he pointed out with a smile that gently tugged on her heart. "Though you know, I think I might actually be wrong about this one."

He started walking backwards in the general direction of the door, a flicker of amusement crossing his face when Lisbon looked up in confusion. "I mean, I'm never too sure about any of my 'guesswork' - as you so lovingly call it - and who's to say I didn't set up this whole exchange just to make you blush that truly lovely shade of pink? I find it endearing."

"You wouldn't," she threatened, narrowing her eyes at him while trying to discern how much truth there was to his words.

"Oh, I most definitely would and you're well aware of that. Which perfectly explains the slightly anxious look etched on your face right now." His eyes gleamed mischievously, his grin practically reaching all the way up to his ears. "If it turns out I was wrong, I might have to declare to the others that I wouldn't mind keeping my promise. I have to say, I'm looking forward to seeing you weasel your way out of that one."

Jane laughed, ducking out the door quickly to avoid the unidentified flying object being launched in his direction. He strolled through the bullpen, still chuckling when he reached his beloved couch.

"You want to tag along when we go see this guy?" Rigsby asked from across the room while putting on his jacket.

"Uh, no. I think I'll sit this one out. I have a pretty good feeling how it's going to go." The blonde smiled while closing his eyes, thinking there were definitely a couple of other tactics that would prove useful in making his favourite blush appear on that exquisite face of hers.

_-xxx-_

Lisbon actually groaned the minute she saw Cho and Rigsby appear around the corner leading a sobbing, handcuffed gardener by the arm into the nearest interrogation room. She walked out of her office, meeting them in the hallway, shooting a 'what the hell?' expression in their direction.

"We caught him basically packing up and emptying his house, stuffing his trunk full of suitcases. He was obviously trying to make a run for it, hadn't expected us." Cho explained the details of the arrest. "He confessed quite easily after that and basically hasn't stopped crying since. It's a mess."

She let out an involuntarily sigh, not realising her features had settled on something that closely resembled a pout.

"Sorry, boss. Turns out Jane was right yet again," Rigsby said, not bothering to hide the amused smirk this time.

"Great. There'll be no living with him after this."

"Look on the bright side," Cho reasoned dryly. "At least you won't have to sleep with him."

Lisbon blushed in spite of herself, averting her gaze for fear of giving herself away too easily, though she wasn't entirely sure how much good that would do at this point.

"Right. Thank God for that," she replied, giving a shaky laugh before quickly changing the subject. "I'll let you take his statement, then. I'll go inform Mr Thompson in a minute that we caught his wife's killer."

She dismissed both agents with a nod and turned around, noticing Jane in the middle of his tea-making ritual in the break room. As she approached him silently, she opened up one of the cupboards in search of her own coffee mug.

"Oh hey, Lisbon. What's up?" He asked nonchalantly without turning away from the task at hand.

"Judging by the smug grin you're barely keeping at bay, I'd guess you already know."

"I must say, you're particularly cute when you're annoyed. But really, there's no need to be so grumpy." He put the milk back in the fridge before placing his tea bag carefully inside the cup and pouring boiling water on top. "After all, at least now you won't have to think of a suitable excuse or elaborate story to explain to the team. I was right, so I won't have to sleep with you."

He took another step closer, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"Unless that's why you're in such a sour mood? Because you know I'd be more than happy to pretend later on that you won our little wager."

Lisbon nearly choked on her coffee when he reached out and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb, a distinct sinful gleam lighting up his eyes. She anxiously turned around, letting her eyes scan the immediate vicinity to guarantee that no one had heard Jane's whispered words or seen his very public sign of affection.

But before she had a chance to lecture him and claim he really was going to give her a heart attack one of these days, Jane was already en route back to his beloved couch, silently adding another blush to his quota for the day.

_-xxx-_


	2. Fun and games

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first one-shot, you've made me smile and I was thoroughly amused by some of them ;) Most of the stories in this collection will probably be established J/L (though unrelated), and again, this is set in a post RJ future. This one is particularly fluffy. It's basically fluff without plot, heh. Also, I kept the rating at T for this, which should still be okay I think.

Thank you to Autumn (**watchyouwalk**), as always.

Prompt: Fun and games

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist.

_-xxx-_

_02. Fun and games_

.

"You can't do that," Lisbon protested.

"Of course I can. I just did," Jane pointed out rather obviously in return. "Shall I refresh the rules of the game for you?"

"But you deliberately moved your knight right into my path, and now I'll be forced to take it," she complained, her eyes never leaving the board.

"Well, you do what you have to do. I'm not forcing you."

"Yes, you are! I have to capture your knight; you'll be a threat to my queen if I don't. But of course, then you'll end up taking my bishop." She frowned, shooting him an evil glare when his latest strategy dawned on her. "This was your master plan all along, wasn't it?"

Her opponent chuckled, shaking his head in obvious amusement. "Not everything I do involves a master plan."

"Sure it does," she muttered, which only earned her another smirk. "This isn't fair, you know. I'm already down to my underwear."

"Hmm, I'm well aware. I happen to be enjoying the view quite a bit."

His gaze slid over her half-naked form admiringly before glancing around the room at the various clothing items that had been thrown carelessly to the side. Lisbon had surrendered her dark green blouse after losing a tight match the previous round, and she'd tossed it over the nearest lamp, unintentionally casting a dim glow over their living room.

"Whose idea was this, anyway?" She stubbornly asked, sulking slightly while she pondered her options in hopes of finding a way out of her current predicament.

"Yours," he reminded her sweetly, a breathtaking grin lighting up his entire face. "One of your finer ones, if I do say so myself."

Another frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and she purposely moved her hand away from the bishop Jane obviously had his eyes on to hover over her own knight instead.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you…" Jane warned her in a sing-song voice.

"Oh hush, you."

"Really, sweetheart, you're just delaying the inevitable. If you move your own knight to E4, I'll actually have you cornered faster." His eyes flitted across the board as he said this, obviously playing out a couple of future moves in his head.

"I don't need you to teach me how to play chess."

"Your current state of undress suggests otherwise."

"I said, hush!" she repeated, throwing one of the couch cushions in his direction.

He couldn't contain his enjoyment as a cheerful laugh echoed through the room. It was adorable to see Lisbon get so worked up every single time, and he realised they were definitely very similar in that particular respect. Her competitive streak was one of the things he loved about her, as it allowed her to challenge him in a way that no one else ever could. Even though he wasn't about to admit it, it never bothered him when she ended up the victor in the end, because seeing that triumphant smile take over her face was usually more than enough to forget about his loss instantly.

Lisbon withdrew her hand and casually reached into the bowl of chips sitting next to the chess board, picking up another handful as she very obviously stalled for time.

"We should get one of those small clocks and actually time the thinking process; you'd probably get fouled all the time."

"Like it didn't just take you ten minutes to think about your previous move!" She immediately countered.

"If it's any consolation, I very much enjoy the fact that you're still going into each match with the expectation of winning. I've always been an admirer of your determination," he teased, gazing at her affectionately.

"Need I remind you that I've beaten you at this before?" She pointedly glanced down, implying he wasn't lounging around in his boxers for fun.

"Meh," he waved off her remark easily. "That was merely poor concentration on my part. Chess is a gruelling mental battle, and it's fairly difficult to focus when you're distracting me, looking like that."

"Right. We won't mention the numerous occasions when I actually beat you fully clothed. I completely understand it bruises your ego, but stop distracting _me_. I'm trying to concentrate here."

He obliged willingly, though the renewed concentration on her part didn't help save this particular match when only five moves later, Jane rather victoriously called out, "Checkmate!"

"Did you know that the word checkmate comes from the Persian phrase 'Shah Mat', which actually means 'the king is dead'?" He added as an afterthought.

"Fascinating," she replied tonelessly.

"You shouldn't be a sore loser, dear; it doesn't become you." The blonde grinned when Lisbon stood up with a defeated expression and glanced down at the remains of her attire.

There wasn't much left from her original outfit, and the current score was now set at 4-2 in Jane's favour. If she lost the next one, the game would inexorably be over, and Jane would declare himself the winner. A sly smile crossed her face upon realising there were various tactics at her disposal that would probably sufficiently distract him. She turned around, reaching for the clasp on her bra before pausing momentarily, supposedly reconsidering, and she didn't need to look over her shoulder to know she had his full attention.

"Is there a problem?" Jane asked, clearly far more amused than necessary judging by his tone of voice.

"No, I'm simply trying to figure out the best approach," she answered cryptically, facing him again.

Jane raised an eyebrow suggestively, shooting her a charming smile, but Lisbon noticed his eyes clouding over with desire, and she knew winning this next match would be a piece of cake. But her rival evidently had other things on his mind than another game of chess, and he stood up, watching her ponder her quandary with glinting eyes, slowly walking closer.

"I appreciate the dilemma, but I've been thinking," he mused. "Shouldn't I get to decide which article of clothing you shed next?"

"No. You didn't do so before - why would you suddenly want to now?" She smirked, understanding his reasoning all too well.

"Well, I think the official rules state that when you lose the match, the other gets to choose what goes."

"The official rules?" she repeated sceptically.

"Yes."

"Of strip chess?"

"Yes."

"I hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing, Patrick," she said, unable to hide the smile lurking at the corner of her lips.

He frowned in mock disapproval. "Well, how can you be sure? Shouldn't we at least check first? Besides, if no one's bothered with setting up some ground rules for this kind of thing, then it's high time someone did. I believe I'm rather worthy of the task."

He stopped only inches in front of her, and Lisbon felt her heart beat faster in anticipation. She briefly revelled in the fact that after all this time, he still had the ability to make her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

One look or touch from the man standing before her was enough to spread a familiar, pleasurable warmth inside her.

"I could help you with that, you know," he offered graciously, slowly running one finger along the strap of her bra. The yearning look on his face combined with the unmistakable lust lighting up his eyes made it hard to focus on anything else but him.

He leaned forward and kissed her neck, causing Lisbon to let out a contented sigh as she instinctively moved her head to the side. She quickly finished with the last button on his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and throwing it to the side. A soft moan escaped her lips when his fingers grazed the sides of her stomach, a pleasant tingle travelling along with them until he reached the edge of her black lace panties. His hands traced the design on the front as every nerve ending was instantly on fire, heat coursing through her entire body.

She trailed her nails slowly down his back, sending a shiver down his spine while she brushed her soft lips lovingly against his. He held her face gently as he deepened the kiss, suddenly becoming aware of Lisbon steadily pushing him back towards the couch. He dropped down with a soft thud, and she straddled his waist, reclaiming his lips as her fingers laced into his hair and tightened around his curls. He delicately trailed one finger along the curve of her breasts, feeling her shudder before sliding his hand to her back, effortlessly unclasping her bra.

Lisbon could feel his growing arousal, and she pulled back, her lips curling up into a devilish smile that made his heart rate speed up considerably. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face when she abruptly stood up from the couch and sauntered back towards the chess board, sitting down on her side as if nothing had happened.

"Get back here," he demanded.

"I'd like to draw your attention to the fact that I haven't lost yet. As long as I have one garment left, I'm still in the running," she teased. "Now, come on," she began positioning all of the pieces back on their rightful squares, taking great care not to laugh at the stunned expression on his face.

Jane narrowed his eyes at her. "You shrewd woman," he muttered, walking over to where she sat waiting, seemingly unaffected, and he reached out to pull her off the couch, his hands resting on her hips.

There was a combination of mockery and compassion playing in her smirk when she looked up at him from beneath those long, dark eyelashes. "Does this mean you forfeit the game?" she asked playfully. "Because _I_ don't mind continuing. Unless you're afraid I'll end up beating you, of course."

"Trust me, that's the least of my concerns right now," he breathed into her ear.

"So you admit defeat?" she grinned. "I believe we agreed whoever lost would have to do the dishes for a week."

"Oh fine, if you insist, then I'll admit to losing. I've stopped caring at this point." He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips while his hands never stopped caressing her back. "More interesting matters need addressing."

The sound of her laughter was always infectious, and he found himself smiling along.

"You shouldn't be a sore loser, dear. It doesn't become you," Lisbon couldn't resist repeating his earlier advice.

"And you shouldn't gloat," he countered.

She gasped in surprise when he wrapped one arm behind her back and tucked the other behind her knees, gracefully sweeping her off her feet with great ease in one swift movement. He always marvelled at the interesting duality she represented; the fact that she was light as a feather, and he never had any trouble carrying her up the stairs, while at the same time fully realising that, if she put her mind to it, she'd have him tackled and pinned to the floor in under 5 seconds.

He smirked when he looked into her smiling eyes, still full of mirth and silent triumph, as they finally reached their bedroom.

He gently lowered her onto the bed and hovered over her, leaning closer to whisper, "I kind of feel like playing a different game." And unable to resist provoking her just once more, he added, "and I might even feel like letting you win this one."

"Let me win?" she quirked an eyebrow and trailed one hand teasingly down his chest before hooking her thumbs into his boxers. "You're going to regret that comment," she warned, her voice full of promise.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he grinned, before pulling her in for another kiss, secretly making a vow never to complain about losing a bet to her again, as long as this was the outcome.

_-xxx-_


	3. Memory

**A/N**: Hi there :) As always, thank you to all of you who reviewed or even just read this, you really do all put a smile on my face and your words of encouragement often leave me blushing. Where the last oneshot was dialogue-heavy, this one is not. It was originally going to be nothing more than a drabble but then…I went in a different direction. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it just as much.

Thank you to Autumn (**watchyouwalk**), who really is so much more than a beta.

**Prompt**: Memory

Disclaimer : I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist. Or the quote, which belongs to Cicero.

_-xxx-_

_03. Memory_

_The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living._

.

The unexpected coldness on his side of the bed is what pulls her out of a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night.

She blinks groggily, trying to make some sense of the blurry red numbers staring back at her from the nightstand. It takes another second for her eyes to focus on the time, and she faintly becomes aware of the fact that Jane isn't lying beside her. She props herself up on her elbows, blinking a couple of times in rapid succession as she looks around the room.

Rain is lashing against the windows, and a rumble of distant thunder is all she hears when throwing back the covers, reaching for her nightgown.

A feeling of dread seems to sneak up on her, and her stomach drops unpleasantly. Because while she knows Jane's insomnia has significantly improved since Red John's death, this is the third time this week she has woken up to an empty bed.

Most of the time he's been as cheerful as ever, though Lisbon still catches herself wondering how genuine it all is, given his uncanny ability to mask his real emotions. She likes to believe part of that has been dropped, that he's finally opened up to her throughout the past couple of years in a way she never thought possible before. Although he frequently claims to be perfectly happy, four decades filled with life have still left their scars.

Particularly on him.

It's this very realisation that propels her forward, and she tiptoes down the stairs to find him stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. He acknowledges her instantly when she approaches him, but other than the barely noticeable frown on his face, there's nothing that betrays his current state of emotion. He's wearing nothing more than pyjama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt, though the room is decidedly much colder than the comfortable bed she just left behind.

Lisbon suddenly, unaccountably, feels as if she's intruding on a private moment, like someone showing up unannounced at the worst possible time. But Jane immediately pushes any surfacing worries back down when he wordlessly offers her a hand, inviting her to join him. She accepts somewhat hesitantly, still trying to gauge his mood when he pulls her towards him, moving back on the couch to make some room.

Strong arms wrap around her smaller frame easily as his right leg slips in between hers, and he cradles his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. For a few minutes, silence is their only companion as they lay comfortably in each other's presence, sharing an impossibly small space.

Lisbon stifles a yawn, unable to prevent the accompanying shiver from running down her spine, and she covers the arms around her waist with her own in an effort to transfer some of her body's heat onto him. But the blonde doesn't seem the least bit affected by the palpable chill in the room. When he notices the trail of goosebumps on her arms, however, he takes the afghan off the back of the couch, covering both of them with its soft, comfortable warmth.

Jane momentarily revels in the sense of calm that overtakes him the minute he feels her warm, solid body against his, letting her tranquillity seep deep into his bones. The tense muscles in his shoulders relax instantly, but no amount of comfort from Lisbon can cure the current turmoil in his head.

He never thought it could still be so hard after all this time; that a sudden rush of grief could completely overtake him, disrupting everything in its path.

Rumour has it that the first five years after losing a loved one are crucial for spouses who get left behind. But he has long since passed that mark, and still the all-too familiar feeling of loss can strike like lightning and destroy his fragile structure of recovery. Often, it's triggered by the smallest things: someone who has a similar smile or laugh, who brushes a hand through their hair in that recognisable way...

At first, he'd kept a carefully drawn-up map in his head of all the places he and his family had gone to, so that he could avoid them at all times. But he also knows that this map will never be complete; grief is still lurking in the most unpredictable places, on street corners or in small alleys, ready to attack him at any given time for as long as he lives.

But even so, he can never ignore that he's been fortunate enough to have been given another chance at life - another chance at love.

At times, it's still hard for him to come to terms with the fact that, despite everything he's done wrong in his life - all of the people he hurt or wronged somehow - he's still here, in the arms of a woman he's sure he'll never deserve. Why Lisbon had selflessly let him, of all people, into her heart will probably always remain a mystery to him. Perhaps it's because they share a lot of scars, and he's the only one who understands all that she carries with her. It had taken sufficient time for both of them to break down each other's walls, though she had already been investing more time in him long before he even realised, for which he'll be eternally grateful.

"I love you," his soft voice unexpectedly fills the silence around them.

The comment seems to linger for a few seconds before she twists in his arms, carefully manoeuvring herself to face him. They hardly ever say those three little words, even if it's not a conscious choice. They both know how they feel without the need to express it in words every single day. She soon discovered that Jane is a true romantic at heart, therefore his actions usually speak for themselves, and Lisbon has never been one of those women that needs constant verbal reassurance of his affections towards her – she's well aware of his fondness.

Words have always seemed redundant somehow.

Which is why this surprising, quietly-uttered statement, combined with the expression on his face, takes her aback. In spite of his heartfelt tone, he's looking at her intently, an unusual mix of sincerity and sadness in his eyes, and he suddenly looks more distraught than she's ever seen him.

The air around him is drizzling with sadness, and it renders her speechless. To her surprise, she detects a few faint tear tracks, and the knowledge makes her heart constrict before she slowly reaches out and traces one down his cheek. Jane notices the concerned expression on her face; the worry lines appearing on her forehead, and the way she subtly tightens her grip on him, a silent question reflecting in her eyes as she gives him a searching look, wanting some guarantee that he's okay.

"I'm starting to forget," he whispers, a slight quiver in his voice. His eyes are unfocused as he stares over the top of her head. "Random memories, moments I wanted to hold captive forever. They're slipping through the cracks. I find myself having to really concentrate to remember a certain day, a particular summer; what we said, what we laughed about, what we did, how we spent our days at that given moment in time...and it scares me. More than anything ever has. It's slowly fading away, piece by piece. Not the bigger memories, of course, but all the precious little ones… they're disappearing."

A few silver tears well up his eyes, but he blinks them away quickly. It had taken a significant amount of time in a mental hospital after losing his family for him to stop reliving every little memory of their life together, over and over. But now that he wants to conjure up certain images, he finds that half of them seem to be missing more details than before.

He looks down to find Lisbon gazing up at him just as a ray of moonlight falls across the living room, illuminating her emerald-like eyes and the tiny freckles around her nose. And all at once, his mind is flooded with a whole set of different memories, and he comes to appreciate that while the loss of his first wife and child will always leave a mark on his heart, the petite brunette curled up against him is the only one who can alleviate the pain.

"You're the one who's familiar to me now," he adds when tracing the frown lines on her forehead. "The one whose features I know by heart, whose voice I'd recognise in a sea of others. All those nights I lay awake were mostly just spent watching you, and it didn't take me long to memorise every curve of your face, or the way your curls play across the pillow when you're tossing and turning."

This quiet confession makes Lisbon's heart ache for the man lying beside her, reminding her once again that even if both of them are no longer haunted by nightmares, none of this will ever be easy. Some memories of her own family, of happier times, started becoming vague and blurry long ago, always causing her to question whether she isn't confusing a particular moment with a dream instead.

Sometimes there's no way to be sure, to make that distinction between an actual recollection or a trick of the mind.

Though she's never once come close to doubting his feelings for her, in this moment, she almost can't help but silently wonder if there's ever a hint of guilt that rises up in him at times like these. She suspects the question she'd been about to ask would prove unnecessary, as Jane appears to have tracked her thoughts quite easily and almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

"I realise it's only normal," he murmurs. "That it doesn't necessarily mean I love you more, only –" he breaks off, and Lisbon clearly detects the remorse now visible in his gaze. "The way I feel about you is completely different. Often when I think back to that time, I'm not convinced the man I was back then was even capable of these kinds of emotions. I took it for granted, and that's something I still blame myself for," he says delicately, his hand absentmindedly running through her hair. "I don't think you would've liked me much," he smiles weakly.

She doesn't offer up any advice or words of wisdom. She doesn't say she's sorry, or that she's sure his wife would contradict him if she had the chance, doesn't deliver any of the common and overused words of comfort, which is something he's always valued about Lisbon. Her ability to empathise is one of her greatest gifts, and instinctively, Jane knows that if she could somehow go back in time and change what happened to him that day, she would do so in a heartbeat. There's no doubt in his mind that she's selfless enough, wouldn't think twice about it if it meant she could keep him safe from the sorrow awaiting him in the future.

There's a heartbreaking quality to her eyes, as they fill with unshed tears that threaten to spill over, at his expense.

"Don't be sad, Teresa. It's just a moment; it'll pass."

"I know," she says with hesitation and a hint of distress that she tries to keep hidden. It's the first time she's spoken since finding him here.

As always, words are unnecessary between them, and nothing she says will make it hurt any less.

So Lisbon buries her head in his chest and lets a solitary, silent tear run down her cheek. Because she doesn't mind sharing some of the burden and hurting right along with him, as long as he lets her.

_-xxx-_


	4. Self defence

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist.

**A/N**: Warm, sunny, 18°C weather…and I am thrilled we've finally left winter behind. As always, a sincere thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous oneshot! I'm not entirely sure where this next one came from, but I promise I'll try to go back to the fluffier side soon :p Also, this hasn't been proofread, so all mistakes are mine.

For Yana (**yaba**), because today is her birthday - happy birthdaaaay, dear! – but most of all because she simply continues to encourage me. And for a dozen other reasons, really. ^_^

_-xxx-_

_04. Self-__defence_

.

He's nursing his second scotch of the night, the amber liquid slowly infusing a sense of warmth in him that he's been longing for all week. The cosy, well-lit bar is absolutely packed tonight, though he sits alone, trying hard to drown out everyone around him.

Unavoidably, heads turn in his presence wherever he goes, but no longer in the way he used to thrive on. He was always fond of the limelight before, yet now, he would rather make it all disappear; the curious glances and stares subtly aimed straight at him, whispers following close behind.

He foolishly believed it would be easier somehow - _bearable_ - now that the focus of his obsession is finally where he wanted him all along; some small, unknown cemetery where no one will be visiting him any time soon.

The truth is, he was wrong.

It doesn't make any difference whatsoever.

The soft, jazzy music floating through the room is normally enough to appease his troubled mind, but not tonight.

Tonight, his attention is elsewhere.

Across the road, at the small restaurant where Lisbon is presently having dinner with a tall, dark-haired man, to be precise.

He hadn't meant to spy on her, really, nor had he meant to spend his entire night here, wallowing in self-pity. It's a mere coincidence that he caught sight of them approaching through the large front windows which provide him with an excellent view of the street. They'd been smiling and talking excitedly, the unknown man gently guiding Lisbon inside while his hand lingered on the small of her back.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, given his current state of mind – they'd been given a table by the window, and Jane has been throwing surreptitious glances in their direction ever since. He's barely able to make out both of their silhouettes, a soft glow reflecting off of Lisbon's short curls. He doesn't know who the guy is, has never seen him before, but there doesn't appear to be an uncomfortable air about them as they sit enjoying their meal.

And Lisbon looks happier than he's seen her in a very long time.

His reverie is momentarily interrupted by an attractive blonde woman who comes to sit beside him, offering to buy him a drink with a flirty, almost knowing smirk on her face. Out of habit, he flashes his left hand at her accompanied by his usual, apologetic smile, only to realise at the last minute that there's nothing left there to hide behind.

He frowns at his own forgetfulness, but still politely declines the blonde's offer.

Because the only woman whose attention he welcomes, craves even, is currently enjoying another man's company.

The knowledge leaves an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, and when he instinctively looks up once more, he's just in time to see Lisbon shrugging into her jacket as they prepare to leave the restaurant.

Without pausing to think about what he plans on doing, he quickly downs the last of his drink and throws a couple of bills onto the bar.

The cool night air rushes past him as he crosses the street, a strong gust of wind lifting his hair, but not his spirits. He reaches the sidewalk when both of them walk out, the tall man gallantly holding the door open for Lisbon.

Jane comes to an abrupt stop halfway there, silently wondering if it's too late to turn around and casually walk away without either of them noticing. Up close, with the first decent look he's been able to give her date, everything seems to fall into place.

He mentally kicks himself when he catches sight of a very familiar dimple on the man's cheek, the resemblance is obvious even to the untrained eye.

When two pairs of green eyes suddenly turn towards him, Jane struggles to keep a neutral look on his face.

"Jane?" There's nothing but genuine surprise evident in her expression as she takes a few steps closer to him.

"Lisbon," he merely replies and gives her a small smile, concealing his emotional state of mind with difficulty. "No late night at the office this time?"

"Not tonight, no," she answers, and it isn't until the man next to her subtly clears his throat that she seems to remember introductions are most likely in order.

"Right. Chris, this is Patrick Jane. Jane, this is my brother Chris. He's in town on business."

The fact that she carefully tries to keep her voice toneless doesn't go unnoticed, as if exchanging these types of pleasantries is an everyday occurrence.

The two men shake hands, and Christopher Lisbon offers up a polite smile.

"So you're the infamous Patrick Jane," he says. "I've heard a lot of good things about you."

Jane's eyes briefly flicker to the brunette beside him, and he can't help but raise a single eyebrow, signalling his amusement at learning she's been talking about him. But to her credit, Lisbon simply stares back defiantly, her expression giving nothing away, though Jane is sure he's not imagining the faint pink colour that lightly graces her cheeks.

"Well, that's a bit odd," he remarks lightly, turning back to the younger Lisbon sibling. "Because most people would tell you I'm an arrogant bastard." He immediately detects Lisbon's frown out of the corner of his eye while she continues to watch him closely.

"Yes, well, I've heard my fair share of those stories too," Chris replies, and his smile falters ever-so-slightly. "I've seen you on the news a lot lately, of course, what with the trial coming to an end. You must be relieved that it's finally all over, and that you managed to kill the son of a bitch."

"Christopher," Lisbon's stern voice cuts in, and Jane catches a glimpse of her teenager self reaching the surface as she scowls at her little brother. "It was self-defence," she adds almost automatically, as if she's been repeating this same sentence to anyone who'll listen for months now. "I told you."

There's no doubt in Jane's mind that her brother, much like the rest of the state of California, has his suspicions about what truly happened. Despite the other man's pleasant tone of voice, the observant consultant is able to tell purely by the look in his eyes that there's a hidden warning to Chris' words, conveying that if _he_ had been on that jury, Jane probably wouldn't have walked away without a conviction.

"Yes, you did tell me." Chris aims his scrutinising gaze at Lisbon, trying to discern whether or not she's telling the truth.

Jane realises the man has nothing but his older sister's best interests at heart. He's looking out for her, and the blonde can't blame him for his obvious distrust.

After all, he's never been deserving of any Lisbon's trust, he has proven that countless times now.

And suddenly, it's all too much to bear. He doesn't want to put her in an awkward position and drag out this conversation any longer, and it becomes increasingly more difficult to keep hiding his emotions behind one of his standard masks.

"Well, it's getting rather late, I should probably go. It was nice to meet you," he says to Chris, and he can see Lisbon's hand twitching with the urge to reach out, when she obviously senses his cool composure slipping. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lisbon."

"Yea, good night Jane, see you at the office."

Her voice is barely above a whisper.

And without a backwards glance, he walks off in the opposite direction, while Lisbon stands perfectly still, visibly torn between calling out or simply going after him. She recognised the sorrow in his eyes all too easily, knows that it hasn't been a good day. The realisation that her failing to mention her brother's visit hurt him makes her eager to explain, to grab him by the wrist and tell him it was nothing more than a last minute thing. Instead, he misinterpreted her actions, and it pains her to know that he probably assumed she's embarrassed by him.

When she turns back towards Chris, his gaze is fixed on the bar across the street, brows furrowed in an expression of mingled concern and disapproval.

They both smelled the alcohol on Jane's breath.

She wants to set the record straight, assure him that he jumped to the wrong conclusions, but the words die on her lips.

"Is there something going on between you two?" he bluntly asks.

"No," she replies without missing a beat, and though her voice doesn't betray any disguised emotions, she intuitively knows he's far from convinced.

He's always been the one who knows her best.

"Let's go," she softly adds.

The atmosphere in the car is distinctly different to the one they shared over dinner. Lisbon's forehead is creased in quiet contemplation and she can feel her brother's eyes slowly turn her way at every intersection.

The ride to his hotel is relatively short, and all too soon Lisbon pulls up in front of the entrance, shifting in her seat to face Chris with a rueful smile on her face.

"It's a shame you couldn't stay longer, you sure you don't want to hang around a couple of days more?" she asks with somewhat of a hopeful note.

"Trust me, I'd love to, but after this conference here tomorrow morning, I've got another meeting back in Chicago the day after," he releases a sigh while rubbing his eyes.

"Well, kiss Laura and the kids for me, okay?"

"I will. But you know, they'd really prefer to actually get them from _you _sometime in the near future," he smiles. "They're sick of me by now."

She laughs, "I know, I know. And I promise I'll make an effort to come visit you guys soon," she vows, the thought of seeing her nieces immediately lifting her spirits considerably.

He leans forward, giving her a kiss on the cheek before putting his arms around her, and Lisbon is surprised to feel a few tears well up at the simple familiarity of the gesture. She really misses having her brothers close sometimes.

When he pulls back, there's a hesitant look in his eyes.

"Teresa...look, I don't mean to meddle with your personal life," he begins, and Lisbon immediately rolls her eyes at this statement.

"That's what you always say before doing exactly that," she mocks.

"But, I'm not stupid," he ignores her objection. "If there's nothing going on between you and Jane, then there soon will be. Because I saw the way he looked at you, and I don't care how many times you insist he's annoyingly all-knowing, he probably hadn't realised who I was until you introduced me. And no matter how smoothly he covered it up, he was jealous." She opens her mouth to protest, but he swiftly carries on. "Take it from me, he thought I was a potential rival."

"You have nothing to worry about." Her lips curl up into one of her trademark, teasing half-smiles that's meant to reassure him, but her smile wavers under his intense gaze and she casts her eyes downwards.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he silently says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Chris," she sighs, knowing there's no way for her to explain the reasoning behind this. "It really was self-defence, you know," she eventually repeats, though she isn't quite sure what the truth is anymore, and she can tell he – once again – doesn't believe her.

"I know it's in your nature to want to help him and be there for him, Teresa. But with all that you've told me...," he trails off, looking at her worriedly. "Sometimes you have to accept that certain things just stay broken, no matter how much effort you put into fixing it."

She can't stop herself from letting out a quiet snort of laughter before looking at her little brother affectionately. "Wow, that was really poetic. You outdid yourself with that one," she smirks.

But his advice still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, because no matter how cheerful she acts, or how much she tries to deny the truth in his words, she has long ago realised that you can't fix everything and nothing ever goes according to plan. Yet, at the same time, it will never stop her from having faith that anyone can heal. Even if it's a slow and difficult process.

She doesn't voice her opinion, however; she'd hate for him to call her naïve.

Chris shakes his head at her, laughing for the first time since leaving the restaurant.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he says before opening the passenger door. "I'll always be overprotective, it's my way of returning the favour," he grins. "But I honestly just want you to be happy."

"I know," she smiles and pulls him into another brief hug before he gets out and sends her off with a small wave.

He stands on the pavement in front of the hotel a moment longer, watching the taillights of her car with a look of concern still etched on his face.

And when her Mustang reaches the end of the road, he shakes his head and heaves a resigned sigh when she takes a left onto Freeport Boulevard, driving off in the complete opposite direction of her apartment.

_-xxx-_


	5. Gift

**A/N**: Well hello :) So I'll be honest and say that I'm not sure where this suddenly came from. But I'd like to point out that in all of my oneshots/current universes, I am choosing not to acknowledge the last two minutes of the S3 finale (even if the last, slightly angstier oneshot I posted now seems far closer to canon than I would've liked). Instead, I am continuing merrily down my fantasy lane of stories set somewhere in the future. Consequently, all that follows is of course even more OOC in light of recent events. Sadly. But…ah well, I decided to post this anyway.

Beware of fluff.

Another sincere thank you to Autumn (**watchyouwalk**) for checking this for me, and for making me laugh at the most random times ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist.

_-xxx-_

_05. __Gift_

A gift consists not in what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer. – Seneca

_-xxx-_

"You bought me a pair of goldfish?"

Lisbon had been coming back from her obligatory post-case briefing with Hightower, fully intent on simply ignoring the ever-increasing pile of paperwork for once and call it a night at a reasonable hour.

But her planned quick retreat was halted by the fact that, aside from the usual files that made up the mess on her desk, she now had a medium-sized glass tank containing two curious-looking orange creatures staring back at her.

And a grinning consultant on her couch.

"How do you know they're from me? They could be from a secret admirer," he replied, thinking that wouldn't be entirely untrue.

"Please," she scoffed. "As if anyone else would even think to give me something like this. This has your name written all over it."

"Well, I figured you needed something to brighten up your office a little; decorate it a bit more." He explained, choosing not to dwell on the fact that she didn't appear as impressed as he would've liked.

"And goldfish are the way to do that?"

"Would you have preferred a painting? Because I happen to know you're not too fond of art."

Lisbon cast a disbelieving glance around her office, and Jane watched her eyebrows sink deeper into a frown as her eyes scanned the familiar surroundings.

"First, you get rid of my perfectly good couch without my permission, to replace it with one you seem to think is more comfortable."

"I don't just think that, it _is_ more comfortable. Even you have admitted it since then," he countered. "And that was almost two years ago - when are you going to stop bringing that up?" He sighed in mock-exasperation.

"Then," she smoothly ignored his interruption, "you decide to buy me a blown-up, black-and-white photograph of the city because 'it'll look absolutely perfect hanging over the file cabinet in the corner'. Again, according to you."

"You love that framed picture!" he exclaimed somewhat indignantly.

"And now...," she paused, turning around slightly amazed to look at the little flashy fish eagerly swimming back and forth. "Goldfish. You're redecorating my entire office, Jane."

"That's an exaggeration. But hey, in my defence, I spend a lot of time here, so it should be an enjoyable space for both of us."

"It's usually more enjoyable for me if you're not in it," she murmured half-heartedly.

"Ouch, Lisbon, your words wound me; there's no need to be cruel." He said with a lazy smile as he watched her bend forward to get a closer look at her new companions.

She softly tapped the glass, causing them to scurry backwards, one of them trying to hide behind a few miniature plastic palm trees Jane had apparently dumped in there. Lisbon took in the different rocks and the large number of shiny, blue stones casually strewn across the bottom of the tank, and she couldn't prevent her lips from curling up into a smirk. He'd actually gone and decorated the tank.

She had to admit it was all pretty cute.

"I had a feeling pets like you."

She was too busy staring at the specks of black that dotted the gold to notice the wistful note in his voice, and a small snort of laughter escaped.

"I had a hamster called Troy when I was little that would probably disagree with you. I very nearly killed him once, and if it hadn't been for Jimmy, who took a serious liking to him, the poor thing probably wouldn't have survived."

"But he did," Jane stated.

"Yea, but like I said, that wasn't thanks to me; it was in spite of me."

"Troy?" He couldn't resist asking, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement.

"Don't ask."

Silence engulfed them, and when Lisbon finally stood up straight, a small smile still gracing her face, she silently acknowledged the sweetness of Jane's gesture. Tracing the top rim with her index finger, she was lost in contemplation, debating the possible reasons behind this specific gift.

She'd never actually stopped to think about why he could be doing this - any of this; the framed picture, the couch, the numerous boxes of chocolate left on her desk - other than some strange way to entertain himself maybe.

However, the truth was that she wouldn't allow herself to ponder the issue too much, fearing that a certain hope she had tried to bury a while ago would resurface all too quickly.

She remembered eyeing the new couch warily when she'd first discovered it, suspicious of his motives and wondering what on earth he had up his sleeve. She recalled unwrapping the huge frame when they were the only ones left in the office on a forgotten Tuesday close to a year ago. And in hindsight, she knew that her guard had been slowly coming down around him back then, an indirect result of too many late-night conversations and impromptu take-out meals.

It all seemed so long ago now.

Things had changed, and regardless of his earlier statement, he hadn't been spending time in her office nearly as much as he used to.

"Why did you get me these?"

The unequivocal sadness lacing her soft-spoken question lingered in the air, and she turned around to look at him, startled to find him right behind her. There was something indefinable in his bright eyes as they focussed on hers with an unexpected intensity.

She blinked and it was gone, replaced by one of the more commonly distributed brilliant smiles, causing her to wonder if it had been merely a figment of her imagination.

He was suddenly far too close, and her heart gave a familiar flutter.

"I wanted to say thank you," he said sincerely. "Not only for saving my life that day - or the million times before, come to think of it - but for stubbornly refusing to give up on me. For your never-ending patience." He paused, seemingly struggling for words. "I know I wasn't the easiest person to be around after we caught Red John, or during the months leading up to his trial."

He caught the brief flicker of surprise crossing her features, but she masked it quickly.

"I kept you at arm's length, when I should have done the opposite, and I'm sorry. I won't do that anymore," he added almost as a whisper. "It was a mistake, in more ways than one."

Jane was fully aware that Lisbon must have felt powerless all these months. There had been nothing she could do except stand on the sidelines and watch as he continued to pull away from her, not acknowledging any of the efforts she'd initially made to help him through a tough time. It wasn't until she'd stopped trying that Jane had realised just how big of a fool he truly was.

The very reason he was still here, still breathing and still enjoying his freedom...was her.

"Despite what you might believe, I know you're good at keeping things alive, Lisbon."

He knew from experience, in fact, but refrained from voicing that particular thought.

She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, finally managing to look away from the surprising and genuine affection in his gaze.

"And what am I supposed to do with them here, at the office?" She asked instead, in a mocking tone of voice, assuming an expression of disinterest.

But Jane easily recognised the appreciation in her eyes, and he was convinced that while she'd take every opportunity to complain about it in the future, she was secretly nothing but pleased.

"Well, you feed them, watch them...talking is optional, but I'd suggest doing that after hours so people don't start questioning your sanity." He grinned when the expected rolling of her eyes followed, and he could almost hear her thinking that people had started questioning her sanity the day she'd signed on with him.

"They'll grow under your care," he continued, casting his eyes down. "And you might not notice it at first, but they'll come to care for you as well. And then they'll wake up one day and finally recognise that you are the single most important thing in their lives."

He looked up after that, taking in the big green eyes staring back at him.

"And that you have been for awhile."

Her features softened, igniting a spark of hope deep within him that maybe he hadn't screwed things up beyond repair after all.

She reached out and tentatively placed a hand on his arm, giving a light squeeze as a shy smile formed on her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he grabbed her hand in both of his, grazing his thumb over her knuckles.

"You're more than welcome."

There would come a time when he'd have to gather up the courage to actually _tell_ her just how much she meant to him, instead of trying to show her in unconventional, roundabout ways. But he hoped she knew, anyway. Hoped she realised that he was nothing but grateful for everything she had ever done, even if that had ultimately included taking his revenge away from him.

He didn't blame her.

Not anymore.

Yes, there would soon come a day when he'd tell her exactly what he should have told her all along.

_-xxx-_


End file.
